


The Story So Far

by skoosiepants



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Disney RPF, Fall Out Boy, Jonas Brothers, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-11
Updated: 2010-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:18:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skoosiepants/pseuds/skoosiepants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William’s mouth curves up at the corners and he says, “I like you, Jonas. There’s something delightful about you, look here.” Reaching out, he grasps Kevin’s wrist with long, soft fingers. He holds his hand up and blows lightly across his palm and a blue flame sparks to life, hovering in the air above his skin. “Wonderful chemistry, you’d make someone a very pretty familiar.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story So Far

**Author's Note:**

> [written for starflowers, who wanted "Sexual tension! Predator!Mike! Misunderstandings! High school melodrama! Bonus points if the Panic! boys make an appearance! Or Ryan! Mikey!" - originally posted at sodamnskippy for the 2009 Christmas gift-fic exchange.] So, okay, this is completely ridiculous. I hope you like it anyway, oh mod-pal of mine. I used to think you were amazing, back in the Harry Potter fandom, and now I still think you’re amazing, but also a complete sweetheart and kind of a spaz, and that just makes me like you more. Happy holidays! I’m glad I got to write this for you :) (also, can’t forget: major, awesome thanks to insunshine for the beta!)

Kevin doesn’t really know why he’s there. He thinks he’s probably the only Lacker, first of all, and even though Kevin’s always taken his dad’s teachings on tolerance to heart, the people at Kevin’s school are strangely intolerant towards _him_. It’s been a month, and the only Other he’s friendly with is Brendon. And Brendon’s a halfling, so to most people he doesn’t even count.

So, the party – Kevin suspects there’s a ninety-seven percent chance his invite had been a joke, but his dad found out about it, and there was no way he could _not_ go, after that.

He breathes a small sigh of relief when he spots Brendon. There’s a moment when he catches Brendon’s eye and Brendon frowns, gaze darting to the side, and Kevin thinks _great_ , because he knows Brendon’s going to ignore him. Brendon can’t afford to be seen with him outside of school, he gets picked on enough as it is. But then Brendon visibly shakes it off and forces a smile, cutting through the crowd toward him – people have noticed Kevin, but aside from a few weird glances, they’ve mostly left him alone.

“Wow,” Brendon says. “You should not be here at all.”

“I know,” Kevin says, nodding. He figures he’ll leave soon, anyhow. He’s been there long enough to satisfy his dad, but maybe he’ll stop by the diner in town to tack on another hour or so, just in case.

Brendon bobs his head, fingers twitching with excess energy. “Have you seen Ryan?” he asks.

Kevin gestures to where Ross is standing with Mikey Way, hips nearly touching. They’re both clearly fey; haughty eyes, bone thin bodies, sharp, pearly white teeth. Mikey’s actually been pretty nice to Kevin whenever they’ve crossed paths, but he still makes Kevin uncomfortable. Ross doesn’t usually talk. At least, he doesn’t usually talk _out loud_.

Ross cocks his head at Brendon when Brendon waves, eyes filled with intent, and Brendon’s cheeks heat. He says, “You’ll be okay, right?” and slips away before Kevin can answer – what was he going to say, anyway, _no_?

An odd chill slithers down Kevin’s spine. The hairs on his nape and arms prickle, and he instinctively knows someone’s watching him, all of a sudden. It’s creepy, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. Sucking in a shaky breath, he ducks his head down and starts making his way toward the door.

“Leaving? It’s still so early, Jonas.”

Kevin jerks back from William’s touch. “Uh.”

William’s mouth curves up at the corners and he says, “I like you, Jonas. There’s something delightful about you, look here.” Reaching out, he grasps Kevin’s wrist with long, soft fingers. He holds his hand up and blows lightly across his palm and a blue flame sparks to life, hovering in the air above his skin. “Wonderful chemistry, you’d make someone a very pretty familiar.”

“I’m not—”

“Oh, I know.” William leans down, cheek nearly pressing against cheek, and he whispers in Kevin’s ear, “Watch out for Efron, my friend. He shreds Lackers like you into teeny tiny pieces.” Then he straightens up and says dryly, “Zac, what a surprise. Jonas and I were just having a chat about you.”

“All good, I hope,” Efron says, grinning this wide, affable grin, and Kevin can’t see anything bad about him at all, right then – Kevin’s confused, and he just wants to go home. The worst thing about mages, as far as Kevin’s concerned, is that they all seem to love playing _games_.

“Of course,” William says, and the grin aimed at Efron turns malicious and frightening.

Kevin twists his wrist out of William’s hold and says, “Yeah, um, I gotta go.”

Efron tilts his head to the side. He looks a little like a cocker spaniel, curious, only one moment his eyes are narrowed and _mean_ , and then Kevin blinks and they’re open and friendly again. “I’ll walk you out.”

“That’s okay,” Kevin says, shaking his head. Kevin thinks he can take the weres, the shape-shifters, the demigods, even the fey – it’s the mages, the magic users that freak him out the most.

William drapes an arm over Kevin’s shoulders, effectively cutting Efron out. “Come on, Jonas, we still have things to discuss.” He gives Efron a backwards wave, then tosses him a mocking, cryptic, “You’d have better luck in town, you know. Hot Topic practically breeds them.”

William steers Kevin through the crowd of teenagers, occasionally snapping his fingers when one of them looks at them askance, mouth open in question – no one bothers them, and Kevin’s definitely sure that’s all William’s doing.

“Familiars are tricky, delicate things,” William says when they reach the open door. He hangs on the jamb, eyeing Kevin speculatively. “I teach that to all my protégés, all the young folk who look up to me. Efron has this thing, though—this horribly inconvenient _draining_ thing he does. I won’t go into it now. It’ll only give you nightmares.”

Kevin swallows hard. “I’m not a cat.” He’s pretty sure familiars are cats and frogs and ravens, not _people_ ; and certainly not a Lacker, an “ _Empty_ ,” Brendon had called him when they’d first met, although his tone had been considerably less derisive than Kevin is used to from Others.

William laughs, touches the tip of his forefinger to Kevin’s nose. “How precious,” he says. “You’re prefect, you know, I’m saving you for someone special.”

Kevin doesn’t want to _insult_ him. He wants to say thanks, but no thanks. “That’s, uh—thanks?”

“I can see you’re wary, Jonas.” William presses the four fingers and thumb of his right hand over and around Kevin’s heart, cupping it so his palm is arched away; his lips move, but he doesn’t make a sound, and Kevin feels warmth spread outward, covering his entire body. William’s skin glows, and he grins and says, “Be safe walking home.”

*

Kevin still feels the residual warmth from William’s protection spell Monday morning.

Brendon’s waiting outside of their second period math class, and he wiggles his fingers in the air around Kevin’s head. “Geez, what happened to you?” he says. “These are Beckett’s colors.”

The worrying thing, Kevin thinks, is that the magic’s hung around him so long. He knows a little bit about mages, enough to know that their spells rarely outlive their usefulness. It makes him more nervous than he’d like to admit. Kevin shrugs and hefts his school bag higher up on his shoulder. “It’s nothing,” he says.

“Right.” Brendon looks skeptical, but he doesn’t push.

Kevin sits at the back of the classroom in between Brendon and Frank, because Mr. Bass says Brendon’s too distracting to sit up front, and Kevin would rather be around a friendly face than be close enough to the board to actually pay attention. Frank comes with the territory.

When Kevin makes the mistake of glancing his way, Frank grins at him, shark-like, snapping his teeth in a mock growl; Kevin doesn’t give him the satisfaction of flinching. Kevin’s used to Frank by now – weres are the least threatening Others in the school, anyhow, and Frank’s _best friend_ is a Lacker, so Kevin just ignores him.

Instead, he leans towards Brendon and says, voice low, “What do you know about familiars?”

Brendon arches an eyebrow. “Why?”

Kevin bites his lip. “I just—”

“Oh, wait, this makes sense now,” Brendon cuts him off. “Don’t listen to Beckett, dude, didn’t you hear what happened to Vanessa last year?”

“No,” Kevin says, and judging from Brendon’s expression, Kevin’s pretty sure he doesn’t _want_ to hear what happened.

Brendon flips open his notebook, scribbles down a few formulas off the blackboard. Finally, he says, “Familiars don’t last, Kev, everyone knows that. You don’t want to get mixed up in that shit.”

Frank pokes Kevin in the shoulder with the end of his pencil. “Fuck, you wanna talk familiars?” he says.

Brendon leans forward and glares at him across Kevin’s desk. “No, he _doesn’t_.”

“Whatever.” Frank makes a face at Brendon, then brightens and cups his chin in a hand, propping his elbow up on his desk. “Look, Jonas, all you gotta know,” he says, “is that you’re fucked if a mage’s caught scent of you. You might as well not fight it.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Brendon says.

“I hear it’s like sex,” Frank goes on.

Kevin pales. He’s really regretting bringing this up in math class. He’s really regretting bringing this up _at all_.

“I’m telling Bob you’re torturing Kevin, Iero,” Brendon says, and that effectively shuts Frank up. He doesn’t lose the wicked grin, but he mimes zipping his mouth closed, locking it and throwing away the key.

“Kev,” Brendon says, “just stay away from Beckett. Stay away from all of them,” he wrinkles his nose, “I don’t trust magic users.”

*

Ross and Mikey pass by their table at lunchtime with a cluster of fey, and Lacey elbows the back of Brendon’s head and says, “Halfling,” with a sneer.

“I don’t know why you want anything to do with them,” Greta says, glaring after Lacey.

The tops of Brendon’s cheeks color. “I don’t.”

“You’d do anything Ross told you to do,” Singer says. He’s fidgeting in his seat, one leg bouncing. “Which, hey, I’m not gonna knock Ross, he’s pretty okay thanks to Gerard’s influence, but you know Walker’s got this whole _destiny_ thing going on—”

“Shut _up_ ,” Brendon says. He stabs his straw into his Capri Sun so hard the juice squirts out a little over his hands. “Shut up about Walker.”

Kevin sighs, because that’s pretty standard. He’s not sure what Brendon has against Walker, besides the obvious – the few times Kevin’s run into the senior, he’s been okay to him. He’s kind of _normal_ ; Kevin hadn’t even realized he was a mage until a week ago, actually, when he’d noticed Walker talking earnestly to a small calico cat. So maybe Brendon doesn’t like Walker because he’s a magic user, and Kevin’s kind of sick of prejudices.

Bryar sits across from Kevin, plunking down a brown paper bag lunch.

Everyone stops talking to stare at him, because Bryar doesn’t sit with them. Bryar’s a Lacker, but he sits with Frank and the other weres, and when he doesn’t sit with Frank, he sits with Toro, who’s normally not even in the cafeteria – he usually spends all his free time in the music room.

“Um.” Kevin straightens up so his feet don’t accidentally bump Bryar’s under the table.

“Bob,” Brendon says, grinning. He likes to pretend he’s in good with Bryar, but Kevin doesn’t think they’ve actually spent any time together.

Bryar quirks an eyebrow at Brendon, then goes back to looking at Kevin, mouth pulled down and eyes calculating. It’s a good look for him, and Kevin swallows hard, because Bryar doesn’t have to be an Other to be intimidating.

Finally, Bryar says, “Frank’s a shithead, but he kind of has a point.”

“Uh, what?” Kevin says.

Bryar shrugs, then raps his knuckles on the table. “There’s nothing you can do about mages. Frank asked me to watch your back, though,” he says, and then he pulls out a massive sandwich and proceeds to ignore everyone at the table.

Singer looks like he’s having a heart attack. He’s making choking noises and clutching his chest.

Greta’s frowning thoughtfully, lightly tapping her nails on her Coke can, and Brendon is sucking on his teeth and swirling a plastic spoon around in his pudding cup.

It’s awkward, with no one talking. When the bell rings for the end of lunch, Kevin gets out of there as quickly as he can.

*

The only reason Kevin and his family are in DC is because a local integrated non-denominational church recruited his dad to minister for them, and because his dad thought it’d be awesome for Kevin, Joe, Nick and Frankie to get as much exposure to Others as they could. In theory, Kevin loves it. Frankie _actually_ loves it - he comes home from kindergarten with non-stop chatter about his friend who can turn invisible; as opposed to the imaginary friend Kevin’d had for years when _he_ was little, Joe likes to point out. Joe and Nick are both in middle school. Joe says it’s all right, and Nick comes home with busted knuckles and black eyes, but he never seems upset about it.

So in theory—in theory it’s great for all of them.

Kevin had been confident in his ability to make friends before coming here. Heck, he’d been good friends with Spencer for _years_ before they moved. Granted, vampires are a whole different breed of Other; they’re not really solitary creatures, but there aren’t many of them left in the world, and Lackers seem to be the least offensive companions for them. Kevin’s still not exactly sure why, Spencer says it has something to do with the way Lackers smell – and, Kevin suspects, taste.

As far as Kevin can figure, there are only two vampires in his entire school.

“Victoria and Gabriel,” Spencer says when Kevin calls to complain about his complete inability to get anyone other than three band geeks to actually like him. He doesn’t know what to make of Frank and Bryar, but they certainly aren’t his _friends_. No, he’s basically just got Brendon, Greta and Singer. Singer spends most of his day making a fool of himself, trying to get one of the weres to notice him, Brendon just makes big eyes at Ross, and Greta—well, Greta’s a sweetheart, Kevin thinks, but he wouldn’t want to get between her and her peppermint latté.

Kevin doesn’t ask Spencer how he knows Victoria and Gabe – he figures there’s some sort of freaky vampire mind-meld or something. He’s probably better off not knowing for sure.

“Well, _no one’s_ friendly,” Kevin tells Spencer. “It’s like having cooties, I feel like I’m in third grade all over again.”

Spencer’s quiet, just makes a small hmmm sound and there’s some tapping noises, but Kevin knows it’s not because he isn’t listening. Finally, Spencer says, “Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“I’m bored without you, anyway,” Spencer says, and Kevin can hear the shrug in his voice.

Kevin says, “Really?” and hopes, hopes, hopes that Spencer isn’t joking. He’s missed Spencer, and on top of that, he can rub it in all the Others’ faces – Kevin’s friends with a totally cool _vampire_ , the most mysterious and rare of all Others, and maybe that’s wrong and his dad would yell at him if he ever said that out loud, but Kevin’s sick and tired of being a social outcast, it _sucks_.

“Yeah,” Spencer says, clearly amused, because he can probably hear what Kevin’s thinking. He’s never outright said he can do that – he claims Kevin’s just really easy to read – but Kevin has his suspicions.

“But where will you—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer says. “I’ve got connections.”

Kevin doesn’t doubt it. Spencer isn’t an Old World Vampire – he’d been born and abandoned by a human - but vampires, as Spencer explains it, age the same as anyone else until they hit maturity, and then their bodies slow and their hearts barely beat and they can live for hundreds of years like that, lonely. Spencer’s only sixteen. He’s had foster families, but he’s never really needed them; vampires have weird networks and covens that Kevin barely understands. The _result_ , though, is that Spencer may only be a teenager, but no one’s going to stop him from doing something he wants to do.

“Awesome,” Kevin says, grinning, because it is _awesome_.

Spencer just laughs and calls him a dork.

*

The shortest route to Kevin’s sixth period history class is past the senior hallway. Which normally wouldn’t be so bad, except sixth period is after the last lunch, so there are actual real live seniors lurking in the senior hallway at that time of day, and Kevin usually circles around through the foreign language hall and up the stairs by the auditorium, even though it takes him about five minutes longer.

He has to cut through when he’s running late, though, and it sucks, but he keeps his head down and tries not to bump into anybody.

He still manages to trip over a cat.

It’s a little calico cat with a smug, eeling tail, and Walker catches Kevin’s arm before he can fall flat on his face.

“Whoa, dude, sorry,” Walker says.

Kevin says, “Thanks,” a little breathless, then glances up and catches Walker’s smile, his eyes, and freezes. Walker’s pupils are _huge_. “Uh.”

“Oh. _Oh_ ,” Walker says, staring at him curiously, then he gives the cat a mocking frown, says, “You minx, you totally knew about this already, didn’t you?”

Kevin carefully tries to extricate his arm from Walker’s grip. Walker is on something, that much is apparent.

But then Walker looks at him again, slides his hand down to firmly circle Kevin’s wrist. “Clover’s a nosy ball of fur, but she’s mostly right. You might as well just come with me now.”

“I don’t—I have history?” Kevin can think of a bajillion other things he could do instead of following Jon Walker into the oblivion of the senior hall.

Walker laughs. “You do. You do, I know.” He rattles Kevin’s arm. “C’mon, it’ll be cool.”

Kevin doesn’t think it’ll be cool. The senior hallway is a dark, yawning mass of possible evil and doom. He digs his heels in and tries to decide if grabbing onto a random locker would look too desperately pathetic.

“What’s this?” Gabe looms out of nowhere, and the only reason Kevin doesn’t jump is because Spencer looms out of nowhere like that all the time, so he’s mostly used to it.

“Gabe.” Walker gives Gabe the same grin he gave Kevin, only sloppier. His grip on Kevin loosens, too, and then he’s sort of slumping back against the lockers, eyes at half-mast. “Gabe, you shit,” he slurs out, but it’s on the tail end of half a laugh.

Gabe waves a hand. “You shouldn’t take what doesn’t belong to you, Jonny Walker.”

“Not taking,” Walker manages, slowing sliding down to collapse in a boneless pile on the floor. “Borrowing, dude. _Showing_.”

“Ah, you’ve seen, then,” Gabe says cryptically, waggling his eyebrows, and then he clasps a strong hand over Kevin’s shoulder.

Kevin has no idea what’s going on. He’s a little freaked out, to be honest, and he hates when people talk _around_ him, like he’s not worth having a direct conversation with. Plus, he’s never been this close to Gabe before; his eyes are dark and creepy-intense, and Kevin knows it’s not a vampire thing, because Spencer has these awesome warm blue eyes, and now Kevin’s staring up at Gabe and thinking about Spencer and Gabe grins, fangs flashing, and Kevin was _so right_ , vampires can totally read minds.

“Spencer’s been in touch,” Gabe says. “You’re an intriguing young man, my friend.”

Kevin flicks a glance at Walker. Walker’s curled up now, snoring, with Clover perched on his thigh – she’s glaring at them, whiskers twitching. Kevin frowns and looks at Gabe again. “Not really.”

“You—” Gabe straightens up suddenly, statue-still.

“Saporta.” William saunters over with a smirk on his mouth that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Jonas really isn’t any of your business, is he?”

Kevin’s prepared for some kind of unpleasant tug-of-war, but Gabe lets go of his shoulder with only the slightest hesitation and takes a step back. He keeps his arms loose at his sides and says, “Beckett,” with a nod of his head, then turns and stalks away. Kevin’s kind of stunned.

“Bad blood,” William says to Kevin with a wide, false grin. He nudges Walker in the ribs with his shoe.

Walker snorts in his sleep and rolls over.

William sighs. Then he gives Kevin one of his speculative looks, forefinger tapping his lower lip. He says, “There’s someone I think you should meet.”

*

Kevin has seen Mike Carden around before. Mike Carden looks like he would very much like to eat Kevin’s liver.

“I should really get to history class,” Kevin says, clutching the strap of his messenger bag. He’s already missed nearly twenty minutes of the period, though, and he thinks it’s probably more trouble to try and slip in late without a note then just skip the whole class entirely.

William keeps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into his side. “Nonsense,” he says. “This is much more important.” He sweeps a hand towards where Carden is leaning hipshot against a locker in seriously tiny pants and an aggressively bedazzled belt that only seems rock star, Kevin thinks, because of the layered jean jacket and the faded Green Lantern t-shirt, and maybe the tangled fall of lank hair and his sharp, hazel eyes. “Carden, this is Jonas. He’s extremely pale.”

Kevin has no idea what that means. He shifts and looks up at William and says, “I’m pale?”

“Fresh. Pure as the driven snow,” William says, tracing fingers over the back of Kevin’s neck. “Cinderella, self-sacrificing pale, I can see all your pretty blue veins.”

“Oh, _hell_ no, Beckett,” Carden says, arms crossed over his chest, glaring. Kevin doesn’t think he’s actually glaring at _him_ , but only because he kind of looks like he’s trying to pretend Kevin isn’t there. Which is really fine with Kevin, actually.

“The thing is— _the thing is_ , Carden,” William says, “Efron’s sniffing around. I wouldn’t trust that orange douchebag with an egg salad sandwich, let alone young Jonas here.”

Carden flicks a dismissive look towards Kevin. “Not my problem,” he says.

“I’d take him myself, you know, except I’m still smarting after the Saporta fiasco,” William says, and Kevin hears something brittle in his voice. He really, really wants to know what’s going on there, but he’s not about to ask.

“Uh,” Kevin straightens up, shakes off William’s light grip on his nape. “Look, I’m not sure—”

“I’m simply looking out for you, Jonas.” William’s giving him a patronizing smile, like he thinks Kevin’s an idiot, and Kevin feels frustration well up and overpower whatever nerves had been staying his feet.

“That’s nice,” Kevin says, gritting his teeth through his own grin. “Thanks, but I should get going.”

Carden snorts.

Kevin narrows his eyes at him and Carden _grins_. It’s a sharp grin, but Kevin feels something pleased roll over and purr in his chest. Kevin tries not to let it show on his face, but by the way Carden’s eyes turn wicked, he doesn’t think he succeeds.

William says, “Fine,” and, “I would advise against letting Efron anywhere near your person,” and the disapproving curve of his mouth says, _you’re making a bad decision_ , but Kevin doesn’t really see any sort of decision to make.

*

When Kevin gets home, Spencer’s sitting in the middle of his bed, legs folded up, reading a magazine.

Kevin throws himself onto the mattress next to him and groans, curling over to pillow his head on Spencer’s thigh. He blinks up at him and Spencer leans over and sniffs the air around his neck.

Spencer wrinkles his nose and says, “You reek of magic. Did you roll around in a pile of mages?”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Kevin says. “Everyone at this school is _insane_.”

Spencer grins. He’s got bone-white fangs in a softly rounded face, wispy, baby-fine hair falling over his forehead. He smells like vanilla, underlain with the slightest metallic tang of blood – Kevin feels like he can finally _relax_.

Pushing his hair back, Spencer says, “A seer, Gabriel, at least one caster, your half fey, a were—” he cocks his head, “dog?” His eyes grow soft and he licks his lips. “And a girl, fifteen, Lacker.”

“Yeah,” Kevin says. It’s a thing they’ve always done – Spencer can tell just who had touched Kevin throughout the day. It used to creep him out, but he kind of gets the feeling that it helps calm whatever’s in Spencer that makes him want to suck out all of Kevin’s blood. They’ve got a deal where he doesn’t do that to Kevin. Ever.

“Cool,” Spencer says.

“Where are you staying?” Kevin asks.

“A friend’s.” Spencer tosses his magazine aside and shifts so Kevin has to sit back up.

“You can always stay here, you know. Dad loves you.” His dad really does love Spencer. He thinks he’s great, even after the whole wrist-biting incident, before they came up with their no drinking Kevin’s blood rule – William isn’t the only one who thinks Kevin has pretty blue veins. Of course, they’d both been in second grade at the time.

“It’s okay. I freak Joe out.”

“You _like_ freaking Joe out.” Joe is ridiculous around Spencer; he’s convinced Spencer can’t resist his sweet, sweet blood, even though Spencer’s never even _tried_. Or, like, done anything to acknowledge Joe’s existence except occasionally making fun of his eyebrows.

“I like freaking Joe out,” Spencer agrees, nodding. “Don’t worry about me, dude.” He gently pushes Kevin out of the way and climbs off the bed, cracking his back in a stretch.

Kevin watches his shirt ride up. He’s always had a teensy crush on Spencer.

Spencer arches an eyebrow at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kev.”

Kevin nods. It’ll be awesome; Spencer can protect him from all the people who constantly want to push him around.

“I’m not going to bite anyone for you,” Spencer says with a frown.

“Did I say that? Geez.” Kevin scratches his neck and ducks his head. He thinks about Carden and how it’d be awesome if Spencer would at least _threaten_ to bite him, make him see that Kevin’s important to _somebody_. Then he notices how still Spencer is – vampires are even freakier when they _freeze_ like that - and he looks up and sees Spencer staring at him. “What?”

Spencer opens his mouth, closes it again. He shakes his head and says, “Nothing, never mind.”

*

“There are three types of mages,” Frank tells him, sprawled low in his chair. He ticks off his fingers. “You’ve got your seers, casters and healers.”

“Right,” Kevin says. Everyone knows that. He doesn’t see how that has anything to do with familiars. Also, he’s starting to think that maybe he shouldn’t have asked Frank to explain why this whole familiar thing is such a big deal - so big a deal that he’s got Bryar following him around in between classes now. He doesn’t mind having Bryar as a shadow. He could’ve lived with the mystery.

“Right.” Frank clamps his teeth down on the end of his pen, talking around it, so his words get a little slobbery. “So the only ones you gotta worry about are casters, because seers divine through animals, like Walker, and healers use plants and shit or, like, earth magic.” He tucks one foot up to push off his desk, rocking his chair back onto two legs – he’s got _mi gusta_ scrawled in heavy blue pen on the rubber rimming the sole of his sneaker. He says, “Spell casters like people. Specifically Lackers, but they’re not always that picky. The problem is that people aren’t really as receptive to assimilation as cats or fucking shrubbery, right.”

“Assimilation?” What is this, the Borg? Sometimes he thinks this is all just a really mean and drawn out form of hazing.

Frank shrugs. “Bonding, kind of? You lose parts of yourself; lots, if they’re not careful, to make room for whatever magic they’re shoving through you. And some of them are never careful.”

“Like Efron,” William says, sliding into the desk in front of Kevin.

“You’re stalking me, aren’t you?” Kevin asks, because William is definitely not in their sophomore Spanish class.

Frank’s hackles are up. It takes a lot to seriously rile him, but he’s at least disgruntled, Kevin can tell. He’s no longer slumped in his chair, and his jaw’s clenched, fingers tight on his pen.

William flicks his fingers at Frank and says, “Weres don’t know anything—”

“Fucking _Beckett_ ,” Frank growls, dropping his chair back onto all four legs, and William rolls his eyes.

“About mages, Iero, all your knowledge is second hand.” William turns to Kevin. “You have questions, you should come to me. Or Mike.”

“Mike doesn’t like me,” Kevin says before he can stop himself, and then he kind of wants to slam his head repeatedly into a wall - William _lights up._

“Untrue,” William says brightly, grinning at him. “Mike likes you perfectly well.” The bell rings and William slides out of the seat, tipping an imaginary hat at them. “Gentlemen.”

Frank glares at his back as he walks away. “I hate that dude.”

*

The first time Spencer shows up at their lunch table, Kevin has to elbow him in the side and whisper, “Don’t be creepy with Greta, oh my god,” because Spencer totally has this infatuated leer on his face, and sometimes Spencer infatuated means lots of stalking and sniffing and sleeping with locks of hair, and Kevin loves Spencer and all his weirdo ways, but Greta will kill him.

Also, Ross and Mikey - because Ross and Mikey are attached at the hip - sit down on the other side of Spencer. Ross smiles at them benevolently, like he’s the Queen or something, greeting the unwashed masses.

“ _Ross_ is the friend you’re staying with?” Kevin asks, incredulous.

“No,” Spencer says. “We met in English,” which is weird, because as far as Kevin knows, Ross doesn’t usually make friends with anyone.

Brendon sucks on his lower lip, darting his gaze from Ross to Spencer and back again. He looks a little pissy and a lot nervous, because he’s always unsure around Ross, and Spencer’s a _vampire_ , it’s pretty clear to anyone from the snow-white skin and severe overbite.

Ross continues to not speak to anyone, and Mikey bobs his head and mumbles, “Hey.”

Singer stares at Spencer, skin a sickly gray-green, and Kevin has to kick him under the table to get him to stop - Spencer’s used to getting stared at, he’s awesome, but it’s kind of embarrassing that these are Kevin’s _friends_.

Singer yelps and says, high-pitched, “Geez, what the fuck, Kevin?”

Kevin feels his cheeks heat.

Spencer smirks.

And then Bryar pulls out the chair directly across from Kevin and steals the pudding off Kevin’s tray and Brendon’s apple and fixes a steady, suspicious glare on Ross, and this is how Kevin discovers that it’s very possible that Ross is _shy_ , and not actually a douche - Ross ducks his head and bites his lip and blushes.

Greta says, “Well, this is nice,” and then holds out a hand across the table and says to Spencer, “I’m Greta,” and her grin is serving up _try something and I’ll stake your heart_ with a heaping side of _your eyes are so dreamy_ , because Spencer’s eyes _are_ dreamy, that cannot be denied.

Spencer’s pretty smooth for a teenager, he’s got all this innate vampire grace, but even he can’t pull off the whole suave kiss to the back of the hand thing – Brendon makes a face and Singer giggles.

All in all, Kevin thinks this maybe could’ve gone better.

*

“Here’s where I tell you that you’ve got some weirdo friends and that I think you should join some extracurricular activities,” Spencer says, leaning against the dirty brick wall outside the school gym. He’s got sunglasses on, even though it’s not particularly bright out. He’s not going to burst into flames, but sunlight still isn’t the best thing for his retinas. He’s even got almost all of his skin covered up – he’s gotten nasty sunburns from _twilight_ before, Kevin’s pretty sure all his exposed parts are meticulously slathered in SPF 100. “There’s something seriously wrong with that Singer kid.”

“Singer isn’t that bad,” Kevin says.

“He has a Webkinz, and brags about his autographed picture of Celine Dion.”

Kevin screws up his face. “I don’t think—”

“It’s a pink gecko named Lars, he carries it around in his backpack all day,” Spencer says. “And what the fuck is Bryar doing?”

“Protecting me from evil magic users?” Kevin says sheepishly.

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s like I’m a guest star on a CW show.”

Kevin can’t really argue that. “I _told_ you.” He’d warned Spencer that this place was crazy; like Hellmouth crazy, only without all the death and destruction. Hopefully. He’s only been there about two months, so he probably shouldn’t jump to any conclusions.

“There’s something—” Spencer pauses, straightens up from the wall. His hands clench into fists, but his face is very carefully blank.

Kevin doesn’t even realize someone’s behind him until Carden says, “Mixing it up a little, Jonas?”

“Uh.” Kevin isn’t sure what he means, but it doesn’t sound _nice_. There’s a sneer in Carden’s voice that sets him on edge.

Carden brushes his arm as he angles in front of Kevin, and Kevin can’t help the startled hitch in his breath – a tiny spark flares against his skin, even through Kevin’s jacket and long-sleeve shirt.

“Weres, hybrids, vampires.” Carden hooks his thumbs in the very low waistband of his jeans and nods his head towards Spencer. “You’ve got eclectic taste in friends.”

Kevin totally isn’t afraid of Carden, but he’s still waiting for Spencer to jump in here, maybe loom a little and bare his teeth in a semi-threatening manner. When nothing happens, Kevin slants Spencer a slightly incredulous look. Spencer grins at him. Spencer _sucks_.

Kevin crosses his arms over his chest and says, “I do.”

Carden narrows his eyes. They seem eerily lit, like the reflective eyes of a cat, but Kevin’s hoping that’s just a trick of the dying afternoon light. He really doesn’t want to get sneakily cursed or something. And then Carden’s stance relaxes and he nods once, says, “Okay,” and Kevin suddenly gets the feeling he was being tested. Seriously, what had Carden been thinking? It’s not like he would or could use any of his friends for nefarious purposes.

Spencer stays tense and watchful, but Kevin can read the amusement at the corners of his mouth, the way it’s tight-lipped to keep from involuntarily smiling. He’s practically stone-faced, but he’s got tells that Kevin’s spent years memorizing – his right eyebrow is just slightly higher than the other, peaking over the rim of his sunglasses; there’s an irregularity along his bottom lip, like he’s carefully biting the inside. Kevin glares at him.

Carden clears his throat, and he’s got speculative eyes and busy fingers when Kevin looks over at him again. Busy, glowy fingers, red-orange like fire, and Kevin jerks back when Carden reaches out and slides them, burning, across the side of Kevin’s neck.

Kevin claps a hand over it with a, “Hey,” and Carden laughs.

“You’re an interesting kid,” he says.

Kevin watches, wide-eyed, as he licks his fingers – they hiss and smoke and quickly fade to their regular pale amber color, and Kevin’s skin throbs along the pulse in his neck, even though he knows that if he looked in the mirror, there wouldn’t be any marks.

“Whoa,” Spencer says when Carden finally walks away with a lazy, confident, kinda infuriating swagger. Swaggers like that are earned. Kevin’s not entirely sure how, but he suspects it has something to do with sex.

Kevin’s throat is suspiciously dry; he swallows hard and swallows again until he thinks he can talk without his voice cracking. “I can’t believe you just,” he waves his hands around, “let him do that!”

Spencer cocks his head and waits a beat and says, “You wanted him to,” and Kevin feels himself turn bright red, because Spencer is a horrible friend. Possibly the worst friend in the whole world.

“I hate you,” Kevin says.

Spencer bumps his shoulder. “Nah,” he says, amused. “C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”

*  
Kevin joins the drama club. He’s pretty sure drama isn’t what Spencer had in mind – to Spencer, extracurricular activities usually means science or chess or mathletes or the newspaper, which, you know, if Spencer’s trying to expand his friendships _outside_ the realm of lameness, Kevin doesn’t think he’s going to find it in _those_ places - but Kevin drags Brendon along with him and they both end up painting sets, since whatever play the school is putting on is already cast. Walker is also painting sets, so things get a little awkward.

Walker just throws grins at Brendon a lot; these honest, knowing grins. Brendon avoids his eyes and does this thing where he talks really loudly and pretends everything Walker does was already done, and it only makes Walker laugh; nothing seems to faze him.

After an hour or so, Brendon flops down on the stage and Walker sits down next to him. Kevin props his paintbrush on the open can of blue paint and watches as Walker starts poking Brendon in the side.

He says, “Brendon, Bren, hey, Brendon,” and then sing-songs, “Oh, Brendon Urie,” while Clover sprawls across Walker’s lap, stretching her front legs out to kneed Brendon’s thigh and purr.

Brendon tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. He scoots over so Clover’s paws fall into the gap between them.

Walker sighs resignedly, but doesn’t try to make up the distance.

Kevin scratches a patch of paint that’s dried on his wrist, and thinks about going home. No one’s doing much of anything, really. Johnson’s hammering at something that doesn’t actually look like it needs hammering on the other side of the stage. Ashlee’s talking on her cell and attempting to pin up the hem of Cassadee’s costume at the same time. Butcher is drawing on the back of Siska’s arm in ballpoint pen.

Brendon suddenly yelps, and Kevin’s eyes snap back to him as Walker says, “Oh, man, sorry, she just—”

“I don’t _care_ ,” Brendon says, stomping to his feet, and it finally looks like something serious has cracked through Walker’s amused veneer as he looks up at him.

He frowns and presses a palm over Clover’s head and says, “Brendon, listen, just wait for a sec—”

“Don’t you get it?” Brendon says, waving his arms around. “You can shove your destiny crap up your _ass_ , Jon Walker, there’s nothing you can say that would make me hate you any less, okay?”

Walker seems honestly stunned, wide-eyed. “Uh.” He drops his gaze to his lap and says, small, “Okay.”

Kevin bites his lip, feels something in his chest shift and his eyes sort of prickle, because Spencer had been exactly right; this is a real-life, heart-wrenching, overly-dramatic soap opera right here.

Someone sits down on a crate next to him, and Kevin turns away from Walker – who’s forlornly watching Brendon stalk away, geez – to see Patrick. Kevin has never talked to Patrick before. This is mainly because Patrick is always around Pete Wentz, and Pete Wentz is a scary-ass merman, shape-shifting sea creature thing – a lure you to your death merman, with this glamour that keeps everyone from seeing his razor sharp teeth, all the better to eat you with. And people think _vampires_ are scary, at least they don’t tear you to shreds and wear your skin as a cloak. Of course, Kevin’s dad would kill him if he thought Kevin thought that about mer-people, because Kevin’s never actually met one, and Pete seems kind of okay; he’s got a loud laugh and he’s seriously moody, but while deep-down in the pit of his stomach he makes Kevin fear for his life, Kevin doesn’t _actually_ , rationally think Pete would eat him.

Patrick is a were. What kind, Kevin doesn’t know, because it’s kind of impolite to ask.

Patrick smiles at him. “Hey.”

Kevin nods. “Hi.”

“The thing about seers,” Patrick says, gesturing towards Walker, “is that they’re kind of blind.”

Kevin doesn’t know what that means. As far as Kevin knows, Walker doesn’t even wear glasses. “Yeah?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Brendon got majorly burned last year.”

Kevin tries not to look too blank, but from Patrick’s huffing laugh, he doesn’t think it works.

“A really bad break-up,” Patrick says, “with Jon’s _best friend_.” He shrugs, re-settles his hat on his head. “Nothing against Tom, things just happen sometimes.”

“And, uh, Tom’s a mage?” Kevin asks. He’s pretty sure Patrick means Tom _Conrad_ ; he’s seen him hanging around Walker before. A scruffy looking chain-smoker; Kevin thinks he’s in a band, and he scowls a lot and takes pictures of body parts arranged in such way that they look mutilated – there’s a gallery of them down the graphic arts wing. Kevin cannot imagine Brendon dating him. Huh.

“Yeah. Yeah, so. Jon figures he knows how the story ends, but he can’t see all the shit in between. Most seers are socially retarded like that.” Patrick tucks his hands in between his knees. He’s kind of flushed, like he’s nervous, which is stupid, because this is _him_. Kevin knows he’s nothing impressive.

“Why are you telling me this?” Kevin finally asks.

Patrick quirks an eyebrow at him. “Because Jon’s my friend,” he says. “And I’m hoping you can maybe help him out with Brendon. He’s lovesick, it’s kind of pathetic.”

“Okay,” Kevin says. He’ll help out as much as he can, but he’s not promising anything. Brendon can be kind of stubborn about most things.

“Good,” Patrick bobs his head. “Thanks.” He stares down at his knees, then glances sideways at Kevin, and Kevin feels like he’s itching to say something else. He opens his mouth, but then he presses his lips back together when something over Kevin’s shoulder catches his eyes – they go stony, but not entirely unfriendly.

“Stump.”

“Carden,” Patrick says, getting to his feet.

Kevin’s hands clench into fists – Carden really has to stop sneaking up on him, it’s pretty annoying.

Patrick swipes his palms over his thighs, nodding at Kevin, and says, “See you later,” before moving over to join Walker at the end of the stage.

Carden takes his place on the crate next to Kevin and leans back on his hands. He stares at Kevin and says, “Wanna get out of here?”

*

Carden is, first and foremost, hot.

Kevin is not going to deny that he’s got this—seriously, super hot appeal. He doesn’t know what it is, exactly, since Carden’s not conventionally handsome or anything, but he makes Kevin’s mouth dry up just looking at him – Kevin can admit that to himself now; now that Carden’s got his hands on Kevin’s hips and has him backed up against a mirror, because apparently ‘wanna get out of here’ is code for ‘let’s make out in the backstage dressing room.’

There are calluses on the pads of Carden’s fingers, and he’s rubbing them all over Kevin’s skin – technically, he’s not even _holding_ Kevin there, Kevin’s frozen by the pure freakiness of the moment. Carden’s grip is light, just under the hem of his shirt.

“Um—” Whatever Kevin was going to say is swallowed by Carden’s mouth covering his, and then Carden’s tongue swoops in, and Kevin’s not even sure he’s going to be able to remember where they even are after this is over, or maybe even his home address or Joe’s middle name, because there is biting going on, little nibbles along Kevin’s lower lip – Kevin isn’t _stone_ , he’s just as susceptible to hot mouths as the next boy, even if his dad somehow coaxed him into pledging his virginity last year.

There is still something seriously wrong here, though.

Kevin manages to jerk his head away, wincing as it hits the cool glass behind him, and he says, “Wait, wait,” as Carden presses in closer, following him back. Kevin grabs Carden’s wrists and pushes on them as he wriggles sideways, and Carden doesn’t move, but he doesn’t stop Kevin from moving either. Kevin pants a little and makes sure there’s a good two feet between them before saying, “You don’t even _like_ me, what are you—” He cuts off with a startled noise as Carden reaches out and threads his fingers through Kevin’s, effectively _holding his hand_ , and that’s surreal enough to trip Kevin up. He stares down at their joined hands. “Uh.”

Carden whispers something. It’s something in a different language, which should’ve clued Kevin in, but Kevin just stands there, staring, and then all his limbs are tingling and he’s suddenly no longer wearing a shirt.

He feels his eyes get big and Carden chuckles. He chuckles, like this is all a fun joke, and Kevin feels his entire body flush when he realizes the top button of his jeans is undone too.

Kevin stands frozen and says, voice low, “This isn’t funny,” because _nothing_ about this is funny. He just—he wants to go home. _Home_ home, back in Jersey, where the most he had to worry about was if Spencer was getting too creepy with Kitty again.

Carden loses his grin. And then he spreads a hand over Kevin’s bare chest and says, “No, not funny,” and Kevin feels—he feels this bolt, this blast of almost-electricity that starts somewhere in his chest but ends in the arches of his feet, and it kind of _hurts a lot_. It kind of makes him want to throw up, and his legs go weak and he must black out for a second, because the next thing he knows he’s got Carden’s arms around him and Carden’s saying, “Sorry, I had to, sorry,” and, “It’s okay, you’re fine,” and, “It’s nothing, it was nothing,” softly into his ear, and Kevin is mortified, he has never been so embarrassed in his life, because Kevin is _hard_. Kevin is pressed up all along Carden’s front and he’s slightly nauseous and he’s _turned on_ , and there is no way Carden can miss that.

“What—?” Kevin wishes he had the energy to pull away. Instead he buries his head in the crook of Carden’s neck.

Carden pets his back and doesn’t say anything and then when Kevin starts to shift, he pulls away and gets Kevin’s shirt, wordlessly helping him back into his clothes, smoothing the fabric and buttoning his pants - and Kevin is already bright red, but he has to bite his lip when Carden’s knuckles brush his erection. He feels like crying.

Carden doesn’t look like he wants to take anything back, he doesn’t say sorry again, or even explain himself, but he does look really serious. He’s got an almost-scowl on his mouth and he keeps close to Kevin until Kevin can move away from him on his own steam. It takes a while.

Just when Kevin’s reaching for the door, fingers shaky around the knob, Carden says, “This isn’t over, Jonas,” and it’s not mean or threatening or anything. Just like he’s stating simple fact, and something warm and static-y shivers up Kevin’s spine.

*

Kevin thinks it all out. He doesn’t tell Spencer - he figures Spencer already knows, anyhow - and he spends a few days just ruminating on it all, and he thinks—he thinks, and he’s surprised at how upset he is about it, but he thinks everything comes back to this familiar business that William is always talking about.

Kevin knows what familiars are. Kind of. He’s pretty sure familiars ground magic users. Like, they absorb their excess magical energy, so they don’t, uh, blow things up. Kevin doesn’t want to absorb anything, though, and he’s pretty sure that’s what Carden did to him, now that he thinks about it. It hadn’t been fun. Well, his body had obviously kind of liked it, but mentally— _mentally_ , it had been a dick move on Carden’s part.

He’s a person. He’s got feelings and things. He’s not a plant or even a particularly intelligent pet - and now he sees what Frank had been getting at before, huh.

Because dwelling on all that is giving him a pounding headache, though, he decides to meddle in Brendon’s life.

Spencer gives him dubious looks, but he doesn’t stop Kevin from sitting down next to Brendon at their lunch table and saying, “So, hey, Jon Walker’s pretty cool.”

Brendon frowns. “Uh, _no_.”

Greta says, “He’s sweet,” and then slaps at Spencer’s hand, the one that was steadily slipping across the table toward her purse - Kevin tries not to imagine what Spencer would’ve taken out of it, but it probably involves lip gloss or a hairbrush or her front door key; vampires totally don’t need to be invited inside when they’ve got actual unlocking means, it’s a scary little loophole, even if there hasn’t been a suspected vampire killing in decades.

Brendon frowns some more. He pokes at his sandwich and keeps his shoulders tight.

Singer says, “It’s not like he ever did anything to you,” and Kevin thinks his friends are pretty okay, in the grand scheme of things. Singer gives Kevin a thumbs-up, like he knows what Kevin’s up to.

Kevin doubts this - Singer isn’t the sharpest hoe on the farm - but he appreciates his enthusiasm.

“I know,” Brendon says finally. He pokes at his sandwich again. Then he shrugs and says, “It doesn’t matter. He’s—there’s something going on with him, and he’s friends with Tom and I just don’t. You can’t trust them, you know?” He screws his face up. “Besides, I think Ryan’s really warming up to me.”

It sounds a little forced to Kevin, but he nods amiably.

Of course, Spencer has to ruin it by saying, “Dude, I think Ryan’s into Bryar,” and it’s not like it’s not totally obvious that Ross has an enormous crush on Bryar - now that he can observe Ross up close, considering he’s decided to become Spencer’s _other_ best friend, and Kevin doesn’t mind that at all, no siree - but he could’ve let Brendon have his dignity or whatever. His fantasy life with Ross where they’re happy fairies together living in distant and harmonious fairy lands.

Brendon heaves a great big sigh, though, shoulders loosening in this dejected slump. “It’s not fair,” he says, but there’s more resignation in his voice than hurt.

Kevin leans into Brendon’s side and quietly says, “Walker really likes you. And you were really mean to him the other day.”

Brendon pulls a face. “Whatever,” he says, but Kevin can tell he’s _thinking_ , and sometimes that can be a good thing.

*

Zac Efron is super nice. He’s always got a smile for Kevin, and Kevin appreciates his friendliness, he really does, but at the same time, the arm that he swings over Kevin’s shoulders as he steers him out the school doors makes him shudder a little, and not in any good way. Kevin’s skin prickles, and he breaks out in a clammy sweat. He’s not sure if it’s William’s continuous warnings against him, or just something about Efron’s bare arm pressing against Kevin’s nape.

“We should get to know each other,” Efron says, and Kevin wishes Brendon hadn’t peeled off to find Walker after drama club ended.

Kevin figures Spencer is probably lurking around somewhere, but there’s no sign of him when Efron angles a hip into the door and pushes it open without letting go of Kevin.

“Let’s go get dinner or something,” Efron says. “My treat.”

“Uh, I don’t think I should,” Kevin says. He’s trying to figure out how to pull away from Efron without looking like a jerk.

“It’ll be cool,” Efron insists. His smile is turning kind of scary, but Kevin thinks that _might_ be his imagination.

Kevin says, “I need to get home, though,” and that’s pretty much the best argument he has, and Efron eclipses it neatly by saying, “Hey, I’ll just come with,” and squeezing Kevin even tighter against his side.

The November air is cold and damp, but Kevin’s sure that’s not what makes him shiver. And then Carden’s in front of them, scowling, and Kevin thinks _oh, this is not good_. It’s particularly not good because he’s basically standing in between angry spell casters possibly set on using him as a familiar, and that makes Kevin extra specially panicked.

Carden says, “What the fuck are you doing, Efron?”

Efron just grins wider and says, “Taking my friend Kevin home.”

Carden snorts. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Efron looks momentarily confused. “No, I really—I _am_ ,” he says, more confidently.

Carden opens his palm on a burning ball of swirling orange and says, “Really?” all low and dangerous, and when Efron uses one hand to slip out a piece of paper, lighting it up with symbols by breathing on it before crumpling it into a throwable ball, Kevin uses his distraction to duck out from under his arm.

He says, “Stop, okay,” and shoves a little at Efron’s shoulder.

Efron uses all his teeth to smile this time - and Kevin is used to scary teeth, obviously, but something about Efron’s just creep him out even more - and slaps the flat of his hand on Kevin’s wrist, hot and hard.

There’s so much pain, Kevin doesn’t even realize he’s been screaming until after, until Carden’s gripping both his arms tightly, shaking him, and when Kevin tries to talk he _can’t_ \- his voice just gives out, a painful rasp.

“Son of a bitch,” Carden says, and he looks—he looks _scared_.

Kevin’s sitting on the cold asphalt of the parking lot, and Carden’s kneeling in front of him. He can’t see Efron, and he winces when he tries to swallow, and all his colors are messed up, like the sky behind Carden’s head is too bright and too neon and Kevin has to close his eyes - he tilts his head forward, resting it on Carden’s sternum.

“What the fuck?”

Relief floods Kevin’s body, recognizing Spencer’s voice.

“What the _fuck_?” Spencer says again, and Carden’s chest rumbles in response.

Carden says, “He’s okay,” but even to Kevin’s ears he doesn’t sound particularly convinced.

*

Spencer is mad. Kevin can tell, Spencer is _spitting mad_. And furious, and enraged, and possibly homicidal - he keeps licking his teeth and growling under his breath.

“That was really stupid,” Spencer says.

Kevin says, “Hey,” because he didn’t even do anything, and then Spencer shakes his head and says, “ _Efron_ , Kevin. I’m going to kill him.”

“No, you’re not.” There will be no killing on Kevin’s behalf, none at all. Kevin isn’t still one hundred percent sure what had actually happened, either. Even hours later, he can feel some sort of foreign spark under his skin, some kind of wrongness that he’s pretty sure is pure Efron - like his magic’s invading Kevin’s pores, changing little bits of his molecular make-up, and he’d think that was stupid if Frank hadn’t been right about the whole people making morally dubious familiars thing or whatever. A bonding of sorts, he’d said. Like his body’s trying to get used to that flood of Efron’s magic, like at some point, his body might _want more_.

“He deserves _something_ ,” Spencer says, fists clenching and unclenching. “Can I eat his dog?”

“You’re not eating his _dog_ , oh my god,” Kevin says, horrified. “You’re not serious!”

Spencer scowls. “No.”

Kevin groans and flops back on his bed. He feels better - Spencer had at least let Carden’s healer friend, Chislett, fix him up before taking him home, but he’s exhausted. “I think I need to sleep for a week.”

“Don’t come to school tomorrow.”

Kevin arches an eyebrow at him. “No bloodshed?”

Spencer makes a pained face, but says, “I promise,” and that’s good enough for Kevin. He closes his eyes.

*

Kevin ends up taking a couple sick days, claiming a killer headache and flu-like symptoms, and he doesn’t even have to lie. He feels like he’s got the flu, only with less mucus.

On the second day, he wakes up sometime in the afternoon with William hovering over him. Kevin doesn’t even bother asking him why he’s there. He just struggles into a sitting position and makes sure his spaceship pajama bottoms are covered as much as possible.

William sits in his desk chair, leans his elbows onto his knees and steeples his fingers under his chin. He says, “You shouldn’t blame Mike.”

Kevin blames Carden a little. Maybe not for the thing with Efron, but definitely the thing before, in the dressing room - either way, though, he doesn’t want to talk to William about it. “Tell me about you and Gabe,” he says instead.

William’s eyes cool, but he says, “Remember this, Jonas. Familiars are intimates, but intimates are not necessarily familiars.”

“Uh.” Kevin squints one eye. “What?”

“Vampires,” William says carefully, “make horrible familiars. They deflect more than they absorb, it’s kind of annoying.”

Kevin still doesn’t get it. “So you had a falling out with Gabe because?” he prompts.

William sighs. “I’d think you’d know. Vampires are notoriously possessive, and at some point, Kevin, I would have had to take a familiar. Who was not Gabriel.”

Kevin sees it. Kind of. He gets the possessiveness thing, Spencer’s like a dragon with shiny things, but there’s an emphasis on the plural here - Spencer’s kind of magnanimous with his love. He doesn’t blame William for his misconceptions - he hasn’t had a vampire best friend for the past eight years.

“Do you have a familiar now?” Kevin asks.

“Not as such.” William fidgets, straightens up in his chair. He licks his lips. “There’s Travis. Weres aren’t ideal, but we get along.”

“Right.” Kevin bobs his head. “Okay, but you, uh, probably should’ve explained that to Gabe before you broke his heart, he might’ve liked Travis.”

William opens his mouth, then closes it again. And then he clears his throat and says, “Right,” kind of faintly, and suddenly a lot paler than usual - Kevin hopes he doesn’t pass out; he’s still pretty wiped, and he’s not sure he’d be able to catch William before he hit the floor.

“I mean, it’s none of my business,” Kevin says, just to be nice, it’s not like William’s stayed out of _Kevin’s_ business, “but I know a thing or three about vampires, and there’s probably less of a problem there than you think.”

“Right,” William says again, absently biting his thumbnail. He looks like he’s thinking hard. Kevin finds it funny that he’s helping people _think_ , helping Brendon and William, and here Kevin is, social life a complete and total mess. William turns sharp eyes on Kevin again. “I’m serious about Mike. You shouldn’t blame him for this.”

Kevin rubs a hand through his curls. “I just don’t get it, I guess,” he says with a shrug.

“What’s not to get?” William seems honestly baffled. He pulls up a long leg, rests his foot on the edge of Kevin’s mattress. “You’re compatible, you’re obviously attracted to each other.”

“I’m fifteen,” Kevin says, face hot. Seriously, everyone is crazy here, everything sounds like lifetimes, he swears he can hear _forever_ in every conversation about this, and he’s _fifteen_. “I don’t know, maybe a date would be nice?” He’s not even sure his parents would _let_ him date a senior.

William nods, solemn. “One step at a time. I see.”

“Maybe,” Kevin says.

“Maybe,” William agrees, only it’s the kind of agreeing where Kevin’s pretty sure William’s just humoring him. And then he picks up Kevin’s latest framed family photo that’s sitting on his bedside table and says, “Oh, you have _brothers_ , this is just fantastic.”

*

Kevin is technically not avoiding Carden.

It’s not his fault that he’s a sophomore, and that there is really no need at all for him to interact with any seniors whatsoever, so long as he avoids the short way to get to history.

In math, Frank says, “So Bob says you’re avoiding Carden,” and then he winks at him, like he thinks they’re in on something together, but Kevin has no idea what that something would be.

“Uh. I’m not?” Kevin is not a smooth liar. He tries to widen his eyes and look innocent anyway.

“Dude, you suck at lying,” Frank says.

Brendon drops down into his seat on the other side of Kevin and says, “You’re lying? Why are you lying?” and Kevin gives up with barely a sigh. He’s super easy, apparently.

He says, “I’m avoiding Carden.” Brendon is sure to approve.

But Brendon just taps his pencil on his notebook and says, “I heard he beat up Zac Efron for you, that’s pretty sweet.”

“No, it’s—”

“Dude, no, that’s sweet,” Frank says, nodding. “That’s fucking awesome, Efron’s a douchebag.”

“He—he wants me to be his _familiar_ ,” Kevin says in a low hiss, flicking a cautious gaze towards Mr. Bass. “I’m just a kid!” Kevin hates it when his parents treat him like a kid, but this is one time he feels that argument is _completely valid_. The more he thinks about it, the more he knows he’s got no business becoming anyone’s familiar, it’s just _ridiculous._

Brendon blinks at him. “Well, _duh_ ,” he says, and then he starts talking about Walker, and Kevin is happy for him, happy that he’s gotten over some of his issues, but he’d really rather not hear about how clever Clover is and how Walker knows the best stuff about everybody and how he’s kind of awesome at kissing, because it just makes him think of Carden and how much it really, honestly hurt when he realized that he only wanted Kevin because Kevin is apparently spectacularly awesome at conducting magic. He’s not sure even having a real date can fix that.

*

“I take back what I said,” Spencer says.

“What did you say?” Kevin says.

Spencer doesn’t answer. He just blows a cooling breath over a steaming mug of something Kevin doesn’t want to know about and says, “I like this place.”

That’s an easy one. “You like that you accidentally touched Greta’s boobs.”

Spencer grins; this slow, pleased, smug grin, full of shiny white teeth. “I do,” he says. “That’s kind of a highlight.”

“I’d find that pathetic if this wasn’t Greta.” It’s actually _impressive_. Kevin doesn’t know how that happened without resulting in Spencer’s fiery death or a pencil stabbed through his heart.

“Anyway,” Spencer says, “there’s a party at Butcher’s this weekend.”

Kevin shakes his head. He doesn’t want a repeat of the last time he was at Butcher’s for a party; he thinks that’s how this whole mess started. Maybe if William hadn’t spotted him, he’d still be a tenth grade nobody. “You can go without me.”

“I think you’re taking this way too seriously.”

“Uh, okay, but you remember how Zac almost killed me?” Remember how this town is like Gilmore Girls meets Supernatural meets One Tree Hill? In theory—again, _in theory_ that sounds awesome, but living it is kind of a nightmare. He doesn’t even want to think about what’ll happen when _Joe_ gets to high school.

Spencer’s face turns dark. “Efron’s not going to get anywhere near you ever again.”

Kevin appreciates Spencer’s threatening manner, he really does. “Thanks, Spence, but I’m still not going.”

Spencer huffs. “You’re being dumb.”

“ _Thanks_.” Kevin doesn’t care of he’s being dumb, but it’d be nice if his closest friend would keep his mouth shut about it.

“Don’t make me tell your dad,” Spencer says.

“That’s not fair!” Kevin forgets how good Spencer is at playing dirty sometimes, and how he never feels any remorse.

Spencer shakes his hair back off his forehead, takes another sip from his mug and doesn’t say anything else. He just gives Kevin smug eyes and licks his lips.

*

Kevin feels just as out of place as he thought he would - just as uncomfortable as he had at that party back in September, only at least this time people seem to know him. He gets some nods and smiles, so maybe it wasn’t just because he’s a Lacker, last time. New kids are shunned the world over, no matter how many Others are packed into a single school. It makes him feel a little better.

He still doesn’t think he should be there, though. He’s the only Lacker within sight, and there’s a big group of shape-shifters eying him up like he’s a turkey dinner. Or a sailor lost at sea.

Kevin’s so busy warily watching Pete Wentz leer at him - is he _winking_ at him? - that he doesn’t notice Carden until Carden’s got an arm around his waist and a hand up his shirt.

“Whoa.” Kevin tries to squirm away, but Carden’s got a good grip on him, and Kevin can feel his teeth biting bluntly into his shoulder, can feel Carden’s deep laugh pressing into his back.

“We need to talk,” Carden says.

“This doesn’t feel like talking,” Kevin says. It feels like heavy-petting. His skin tingles, and he has to fight not to melt bonelessly back into the cradle of Carden’s body - that would be _totally_ counterproductive.

Carden's mouth moves against the knob of Kevin’s spine; he can imagine the grin, the one where he thinks he has Kevin right where he wants him. Which he does. Kevin isn’t going anywhere, he’s flushed and frozen, the tips of Carden’s fingers are dipping into his jeans, under the long hem of his button-down. He just hopes nobody can tell.

“I was told I had to ask you out,” Carden says, and that spurs Kevin into action; he jerks his elbow back into Carden’s side - Carden’s hands slip off him with a startled _oof_ , and Kevin finds some small satisfaction in that.

Very small, because he’s mostly still hurt. “You don’t have to do anything,” he says tightly. “I think you should just— _leave me alone._ ”

Carden cocks his head. “Kevin—”

“No, just.” Kevin waves a hand. “I don’t get this, and I don’t think I want to.” Kevin is not going to cry. Crying would be lame; he’s just really sick of being jerked around.

“Hey.” Carden doesn’t grin, doesn’t try to coax him with wicked, glowing eyes or whatever. He reaches out and grasps Kevin’s hand, though. He says, “Hey,” again, like he’s at a loss of what to actually say to him.

Kevin blinks, studiously ignoring the moisture at the corner of his eyes.

“I’m not—this isn’t a game,” Carden says finally. “I can find another familiar, Jonas. I want to date _you_.”

William’s words echo faintly in the back of Kevin’s mind - intimates aren’t always familiars. But like hell is Kevin going to date a mage whose _intimate familiar_ isn’t _him_. Vampires might not be monogamous, but Kevin’s pretty sure _he_ is. This is all really confusing. He rubs his fingers over his eyes, swallowing hard. “Mike,” he says.

“I’m sorry about before.” When Kevin looks, Carden’s got a what-can-you-do expression on his face, an invisible shrug. “I couldn’t help it. You just. Fuck, Jonas,” he pushes in close again, and Kevin lets him, “you get me worked up, you know.”

He seems almost embarrassed, and Kevin feels warmth pool low in his belly. It’s sexy, knowing Carden isn’t always as together as he appears. He says, “Mike,” again, and Carden must read something in his voice, something Kevin doesn’t even make a conscious decision about.

Carden slips even closer, tips his head up so their lips are nearly brushing. Kevin’s breath is heavy between them.

“I’m not Efron,” Carden says, soft and low. “It’ll hurt, but it’ll be awesome.”

Kevin remembers. Kevin, uh, wants Carden’s colors all over him. Oh, god. He feels tight and hot, and he whispers, “Why?” Why _him_? He’s nothing special.

Carden says, a little exasperated, “I _like_ you. I like who you are.” He tilts his head in, like he’s telling Kevin a secret, mouth grazing the outer-shell of Kevin’s ear. “I like your best friend. I like that weird little guy who’s always after Johnson. I like Urie, surprisingly, and I like how you fixed Bill without even really trying. There is _nothing_ , Jonas, that I don’t like about you.” He squeezes Kevin’s ass with both hands, like he’s making a point, and Kevin very carefully does not squeak. “You don’t take shit, and you wear a mean pair of tight pants.”

“Um.” Kevin licks his dry lips. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Carden leans back, looks into Kevin’s eyes. Carden’s gaze is still scary-intense, he’s hard to read, but there’s a softness around his mouth, like he’s just waiting for Kevin’s permission to grin. It might be a really stupidly happy grin, too, Kevin is kind of banking on that.

“Yes?” He means yes to the date, but Carden apparently takes that as yes to everything else - Kevin hopes no one’s looking, because Carden’s mouth is really, truly talented; there’s licking of teeth and Kevin never thought that would be hot, but he lets Carden coax his mouth open wider.

Kevin decides he really likes kissing Carden a lot. Like, _a lot_ a lot. Carden clenches Kevin’s sides before smoothing his hands flat over the small of Kevin’s back, and Kevin feels this low level hum, this spread of heat that just gets hotter, until Kevin has to arch his back, like his body’s trying to get away from the pain and push back into it at the same time.

And then suddenly it’s gone, leaving behind just a tingle, just small zings that dart and spread all over Kevin’s insides, trembling, like they’re looking for places to settle in and stay, and Carden murmurs, “Fuck,” and, “Sorry,” into Kevin’s mouth, and Kevin says, “It’s okay,” and he’s pretty sure it is.


End file.
